


Mistlefoe

by thekeyholder



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Christmas, Jim is an idiot, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:44:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9098020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: “Oh, come on, Jim. It’s just a kiss,” Oswald laughed. “You know what, I’m feeling generous today: this will make us even. If you kiss me, there’s no favour to repay.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone, it is I, the insomniac gobblepot trash. Here's a new contribution to Gobblepot Winter 2016, for the 'mistletoe' prompt. The story was inspired by [THIS](http://butterfliesandresistance.tumblr.com/post/154504414061/fun-christmas-idea) tumblr post (title also stolen from there). Thanks to grndmstrexo for encouraging me to write this, and to Nekomata58919 for the beta!

Jim Gordon walked into Oswald’s club, the abundance of Christmas decorations threatening to burn his retinas. Tinsel everywhere, gold stars, red bows, a huge tree, every Christmas cliché one could possibly imagine was squeezed in there. The detective closed his eyes and shook his head, going deeper into this colourful monstrosity.

 

“Jim! How nice of you to visit!”

 

The detective clenched his fists; he had no idea why, but in order to block out any other feeling when it came to the gangster, he called forth anger. Anger was familiar and safe territory, anything else left him confused.

 

“Cobblepot. The club’s very… festive,” Jim added as politely as humanly possible.

 

“Thank you. Would you care for some mulled cider?” Oswald looked openly at the detective, hoping that he would stay for a while.

 

“No, I’m on duty. I need to ask you some questions.”

 

Oswald pouted, but gestured at a table. They sat down, and Jim briefly described his current case, a complicated affair involving drugs and murder. He hoped that the gangster would have access to certain information.

 

“I’ll make some calls and let you know,” Oswald said, leaning towards Jim in a very familiar manner.

 

The detective nodded, panic constricting his throat, and he stood up, ready to get out. He reached an arch in the middle of the club when Oswald called after him: “What, you’re leaving without even asking what you have to do in exchange for this favour?”

 

Jim stood there, paralysed, watching as Oswald was limping towards him. He rolled his eyes, and that was when he noticed that ugly, treacherous plant hanging above him. Oh no, no, no, this couldn’t be real. But Oswald must have hurried, made the extra effort to get there fast, because when Jim looked down he was there, peering at him with an impish glint in his eyes.

 

“You planned this,” Jim growled.

 

“You and your paranoia, Jim Gordon. I completely forgot about this poor plant’s significance for you. In my culture, it symbolises good luck. My mother always buys a bunch and places them in various parts of her apartment. She decorated my club as well, so that it will be prosperous next year.”

 

That was when Jim noticed the other mistletoes hiding around the club: there was one under the counter, on the door handle to Oswald’s office, above the stage, and other hard to access places where he would have never found himself.

 

Oswald smiled predatorily, “But since you so kindly stopped here, why don’t we honour your tradition?”

 

Jim’s expression hardened, and he tried to reign in the fluttering in his stomach.

 

“Oh, come on, Jim. It’s just a kiss,” Oswald laughed. “You know what, I’m feeling generous today: this will make us even. If you kiss me, there’s no favour to repay.”

 

Later, he would swear that it was an involuntary reaction at seeing Oswald puckering his lips, that all the stress that had been accumulating for day finally gushed out.

 

Jim Gordon punched Oswald Cobblepot.

 

The mobster blinked rapidly before his knees gave out. Fortunately, he had enough time to grab Jim’s lapels and bring the policeman down with him, both moaning as they landed on the hard floor.

 

“Oswald?” Jim asked as soon as he untangled himself. “I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”

 

“Wha-”, Oswald moaned. “Why did you do that?!”

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Jim said with red cheeks, while he helped Oswald to sit up properly. He reached out to touch the gangster’s left cheek. “Does it hurt?”

 

Oswald nodded, but quickly added, “I’ve survived worse. You can go now, Detective.”

 

“Look, Oswald…”

 

“Please go. You made your feelings very clear, now leave me be,” Oswald said in a small voice, looking away.

 

Jim sighed; if there was one thing he hated, that was hurting people. Even if said people were manipulative gangsters. So he crept closer to Oswald on his knees, gently turned his face and kissed him. Oswald’s hands came up to Jim’s biceps, and squeezed them.

 

“There,” Jim said, as if he’d just finished a business transaction.

 

However, a pleasant tingle ran through his body when he saw Oswald’s eyelashes flutter, followed by the gangster’s adoring gaze.

 

“This one is for punching you,” Jim announced before he leaned in, and kissed Oswald again, this time his lips pressing a bit harder against Oswald’s.

 

The gangster moaned into it, his left hand sliding to Jim’s nape and caressing the detective’s short hair. They stayed close to each other when they broke the kiss, neither willing to part.

 

“Any other favours I need to repay? Or maybe I can do it in advance?”

  
Oswald giggled before bringing Jim closer, “I’m sure we can figure out something.”


End file.
